


The Road Not Taken

by pandacchii



Series: A Boy and his Master [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: I haven't written in so long pls help, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:43:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6597190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandacchii/pseuds/pandacchii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aokuro fic set in Edo Period Era. Aomine's family is a long line of samurai who serve the Kuroko clan. However, the fight for the council of the emperor leads the family into turmoil and distress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road Not Taken

_Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,_

_And sorry I could not travel both_

_And be one traveler, long I stood_

_And looked down one as far as I could_

_To where it bent in the undergrowth;_

  _Then took the other, as just as fair,_

_And having perhaps the better claim,_

_Because it was grassy and wanted wear;_

_Though as for that the passing there_

_Had worn them really about the same,_

  _And both that morning equally lay_

_In leaves no step had trodden black._

_Oh, I kept the first for another day!_

_Yet knowing how way leads on to way,_

_I doubted if I should ever come back._

  _I shall be telling this with a sigh_

_Somewhere ages and ages hence:_

_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—_

_I took the one less traveled by,_

_And that has made all the difference._

> _-Robert Frost_

 

* * *

 

If there was one thing Daiki hated the most, it was the quiet. The moon shone large and bright, giving the landscape of trees beside his home an eerie light. It was the middle of summer, but not even the cicadas sang their tune.

 The quiet always meant something ominous. Even though he was just a young boy of seven, he had already experienced excessive pain within the quiet. His mother had been killed on a night much like this one. He was even younger then, just five years old. Though he couldn’t  remember the night well, he remembered the quiet, followed by the screams.

 Tonight he stayed tense, his nerves struck cold with fear as he strained his ears against the quiet, listening for any sort of sound. Finally, the sound of the night cicadas resumed, their obnoxious buzzing calming him down. These types of nights happened to him every so often, but the traumatic experience of that one night always came back to haunt him. It was only something he could pray would go away with age.

 But for now he let his nerves settle, his body relaxing back into the futon. The sounds of the insects, the birds and the wind became his lullaby as he drifted once again into sleep.

* * *

 “Daiki.”

 The sliding door to his room opened, and a tall and muscled man in his thirties stood at the entrance. He had a stern look, his eyes a piercing sapphire color. In his younger days, he would have been considered handsome, but even now some of the women in the village still turn their heads when he walked by. He went by the name, Mamoru, though everyone usually referred to him as Aomine-San. Daiki had gotten many of the same features from his father, including his easily tanned skin, his rugged way of speaking, and his eye color. Even with his mother gone, his personality never changed in the slightest.

 Yawning loudly, a small child's face peeked out from the blankets, glaring heavily at his father.

 “It’s barely even sunrise!” Daiki complained, then retreated back into the safety of his blankets. “It's also cold as hell,” came a muffled response from the sheets.

 Mamoru rolled his eyes, taking a step into the room.

 “You know what day it is, and you know how important it is. So, get the hell up.”

 He walked over to the bed, where Daiki just curled up tighter underneath the sheets.

“Who cares, they can wait another hour.”

 Another muffled reply.

 The corner of his father’s eyebrows creased, and his mouth started to twitch. Grabbing the futon, he held it all in one swoop, shaking the contents out to reveal a small child falling from the blankets.

 “Agh!!!!!”

 Daiki landed on the floor with a thump, and twisted his injured head to give his father another hard glare.

 “What was that for?!”

 Smirking, Mamoru threw the futon over his shoulder, and walked over to the side of the room while carefully folding the sheets in his hands. The sound of Daiki’s complaints resounded in the background as he slid open the compartment in the far corner of the room, putting the futon on top of the others.

 He stood up and sighed, dusting his hands on his worn kimono, careful not to hit the sword that hung at his side.

 “Go get ready. We’re readying the horses in a hour. Better eat some breakfast too, can’t have your stomach growling before the Daimyo, can we?”

 His son grumbled, and slowly got up from the floor, nursing the back of his head.

 “Fine, fine, I got it, old man,” Daiki muttered, making his way towards the pile of clothes that littered the floor.

 “One hour, Daiki!!” His father warned him once more before leaving the room, and closed the sliding door behind him.

 The young boy sifted through the clothes on the floor, trying to ascertain what to wear. All of them slightly smelled of musk, and were wrinkled just about everywhere (which, come to think of it, hadn't his father told him last week to wash these clothes? Too late for that now, obviously.)

 This was one of the rare special occasions his father has waited a long time for. Ever since he was born, really.

 His family had been samurai for generations, and in other words, he was the son of the household to become the next samurai for their appointed family. Once the son has come of age, they would then be introduced to the family they will be serving for the rest of their lives, and hence would begin their training.

 Daiki didn't know much about the noble family since his father kept it a secret—partially for the Daimyo’s safety, and partially because he wanted it to be a big spectacle when he finally got to meet them. As it happened, today seemed to be the day. Although he wasn't that enthused to meet the family, he was just excited to finally start his samurai training. Whenever his father went out to practice in the fields by their house, Daiki could only stare in amazement. His eyes would follow every swing, every thrust of the sword, and he could only notice how the moves were as graceful as that of a swan, yet held the intensity of a dragon’s power. Daiki couldn't wait until he, too, would one day have that same power, that same strength.

 He shook his head, his hands trembling in excitement from finally getting to learn battle tactics from his father. But first, he had to get through the familial meeting. His father had said that the whole family would be there, which was a miracle. Usually the head of the household was stationed at Kyoto, or with the Emperor. Their main role was to give battle tactics and advise the Emperor on trade agreements or politics. Adult things he couldn’t wrap his mind around, and didn’t really care about.

 After shifting through the pile (at least half a dozen times), he finally found a suitable Haori (while rummaging for the matching Hakama), ones that weren’t too crumpled and trampled upon.

 It was a dark shade of blue all throughout, with fine white lines that were sewn vertically down the fabric. The pants were a darker shade to match the fabric The light material felt nice on Daiki’s skin after the previous night’s panic attack left him quite sticky from summer’s humid air.

 The morning after the attacks were always difficult, always a struggle to hide from his father. He couldn’t let him know he was weak. He was a man! Well, in his mind he was. After all, men feared nothing, especially samurai.

 Daiki put on the outfit quickly, dressing as fast as he could. He was sure there wasn’t much time left of the hour his father gave him.

 Rushing through their small house, he ran into the kitchen, and noticed a small bowl of rice on their table.

 His father was nowhere to be seen, so he must have been outside readying the horses. Now he _really_ knew there wasn’t much time left to spare.

 He scarfed down the bowl of rice, not even bothering to sit down at the table, stuffing as much rice in his mouth as he could with his chopsticks.

 “ ** _Daiki_**!!”

A loud booming voice resounded from the outside, the horses neighing frightfully from the sudden noise.

 Daiki scarfed the last bit of rice from the bowl, and bolted outside, running to where his father stood with the horses with an annoyed look on his face.

 “You’re late!” He hit his son on the top his head, and pushed him towards his horse. “Come on, we don’t have much time now.”

 Large calloused hands gripped Daiki’s side as his father hoisted him on top of his horse, as he was still not tall enough to get on the horse himself (though, he had debated many times that he had grown at least another inch and should be able to get on without assistance).

 The horse shifted as Daiki settled onto his mare’s back and adjusted his position to get comfortable. His feet still dangled at the horse’s sides emphasizing he was still a child. He frowned, and looked back towards his father as he got on his own horse. Sweeping his leg up, he smoothly got onto the back in the ease of someone who did it often. Daiki frowned and swung his dangling legs back in forth. Why couldn’t he be grown up already too?

 Without another word, his father’s horse took the lead in front of him, and they galloped through the field. The light from the sunrise made the field look like fire burned underneath their horse’s hooves.

 Daiki let himself close his eyes and enjoy the wind on his face, the cool morning breeze not yet affected by the heat of summer.

 However, the ride was too short for him to enjoy it to the full extent, as they arrived at the entrance of the estate all too soon. Pale white walls surrounded the main house, with a gate similar to that you would see at a temple shrine, that rose meters above their heads. In front of the gate were two Sword-For-Hires, their expressions stiff, as if they were made out of stone.

 Upon their approach to the gate, the soldiers looked up, expression unwavering.

 “Aomine-san,” The left one said, stepping forward to give a short curt bow. His partner stepped forward in mirror giving his own greeting to their master’s samurai. “Will you be staying long today? Kuroko-sama has business to attend to in the capital at sundown.”

 The two straightened up, gazing directly at the man, waiting for his response.

 He took a moment to respond, his eyebrow arching up at this new information.

 “We won’t be long. I’m just having them meet my son. He’s the new heir for my family. That is all,” Mamoru gestured over to him, extending his arm out in his direction, palm out.

 The guards finally looked over to Daiki, as if seeing him for the first time. Their stares were as cold as ice, nothing compared to the joking glares he and his father exchanged. Locked in their gazes, it felt the same as if he were being suffocated, unable to look away or back down.

 After a few moments pause, they both bowed again and stepped aside. The first guard pulled at the gate while the other pulled the opposite side. The gate struggled to open as they both put in their full strength, the tendons in their muscles popping out against their skin.

 The gates opened up, inch by inch, and Daiki’s eyes widened in amazement as the courtyard became visible -- a serene garden in the heart of the estate. A sand garden enclosed the outer square, the sand perfectly raked with  polished rocks that were aligned in mysterious yet calming ways.. In the inner square stood a Sakura tree, it's branches drooping over the sand. Yet, not a single petal or piece of the tree littered the sand underneath.. Beside the garden, many ladies of the estate stood and gathered talking in hushed voices. Some sat on benches facing away from him, masqueraded by their parasols that blocked the morning light. They were all gowned in kimonos of the finest silk material. Kimonos that must have cost a fortune, a fortune that his family would surely never know.

 He hadn’t even noticed his father had already gotten down from his own mare, handing the horse over to the servants as they escorted them away from the gate.

 Noticing his reaction, his father chuckled quietly and walked over to his son. Reaching up, he grabbed his sides and gently lifted him down.

 This time, he saved his comments for his father, instead intent on watching the courtyard with fascination. With the gates fully opened, it was like he had entered the emperor’s palace. Surely there were no men richer than this?

 He tugged at his father’s Haori, gesturing hurriedly to bend down as he looked cautiously around him.

 “Father, we didn’t go to the emperor’s palace on accident, did we?” He whispered. Daiki whipped his head from side to side, making sure by some youth’s imaginary notion that spies weren’t listening to everything he said.

 His father blinked, surprised by the question. Not a moment later, he bursted out in a loud laugh, his shoulders shaking. The ladies of the estate turned their head at the noise, and wrinkled their noses at the sudden disturbance.

 Daiki furrowed his brow, placing his hands at his hips.

 “Why are you laughing?! That was a serious question,” he muttered angrily, puffing his cheeks in a pout.

 “No, no, son. The emperor’s palace is much larger, you couldn’t even imagine,” his father spoke between laughs, finally calming down. He tousled his son’s hair, but careful not to mess it. “Maybe you’ll get to see it some day. But we have to hurry, it looks like our master will be leaving soon.”

 Letting his anger go, he dropped his hand from his father’s clothes, standing straight as he walked through the courtyard.

 The ladies whispered to each other as they passed through, their eyes like piercing arrows. Daiki could feel each of their pointed stares but knew not to let it get to him.

 “So strange.. That boy,” Said one.

 “I heard their mother committed suicide.”

 A gasp.

 “No Yukiko-san, it was a murder. You know how those common folk are. Complete monsters.”

 “I wonder if it was the father. Master must be very careful, I don’t see why he doesn’t hire out of the family,” said another.

 Daiki heard all of their whispers, and the excitement drained away from him, sucking it out like a mosquito.

 Each word was like a stab in an open wound.

  _“Women of the court are like that of a fanged snake, Daiki.”_

  _“But why?_

  _His mother rested her arm on the window sill, looking out at the village across the river from them. Her voice dropped before she spoke, no louder than a whisper._

  _“Their words drip with poison, their words pierce into your skin and let their poison consume you. When you meet the Daimyo, they will try to hurt you with their fangs. You must not let it get to you,”_

 The memory was sudden - harsh, a memory he didn’t even know that he had. His memories of his mother was faint, and at times he could hardly remember what her face looked like. But his mother’s words lingered in him, and made sense as he took those steps to the main house. Although he was still young, he knew how dangerous these women could be.

 He stopped in his tracks, and clenched his teeth. The words and memories bubbled up inside him. They overflowed like a waterfall.

 Daiki’s father turned to stop him to what he was about to do next, but was just a second too late.

 His son whipped around, his cheeks flushed red.

 “ ** _HEY_ ,**” he shouted angrily at the women, the shout louder than he had intended.

 The yell echoed throughout the courtyard, the women falling silent. They stared at him, with eyes wide.

 “ ** _MY MOTHER WAS BETTER THAN ALL OF YOU WHORES YOU_** \-- “  Before he could finish his sentence, a small pale hand covered his mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence. “-- ** _MMMRHGNFHGG_** ,” He quieted after that, realizing that something -- no, some _one_ was covering his mouth.

 Daiki blinked once. Twice. He stood still, unsure of what to do. Whose hand even was this?! It definitely wasn’t his father’s.

 The women in front of him gasped loudly, and immediately dropped to their knees. They bowed their heads to the ground, prostrating before… Him? No…

 “Bocchama……” They spoke in chorus.

 Bocchama?

 He looked to his side, to see a young boy, possibly his age with a tousle of messy light blue hair. He was dressed in similar attire as he was, except his was a much lighter shade of the blue. It matched his hair in almost perfect color. There was a faint outline of sakura flowers sewn into the fabric of his Haori The boy stared up at him, retrieving his hand from Daiki’s mouth. His eyes were large for a boy’s, with a shocking ice blue color. They stared at him wide and unblinking.

 Behind him, his father watched the exchange with an expression of disbelief and confusion. Before a moment’s hesitation, he also bowed like the women in the courtyard.

 Daiki looked back at the boy whose expression didn’t change, and cocked his head to the side.

 This was ‘Bocchama?’ This little kid?

 A hard force pushed down on his head, forcing his body to bend in a 90 degree angle.

 “Ow,” he complained, fighting the strength against his head.

 “This is the master’s son, Daiki,” His father hissed through his teeth. “Manners.”

 The ‘Bocchama’, the bowing, it all finally clicked into place. His father always called him slow for a reason.

 He blushed with embarrassment, bowing with his own will-power now.

 “ ** _EXCUSE ME_** ,” he said a little too loud, “My name is Aomine Daiki, I am in your care from now on,”

 There was a moment’s pause, before he glanced up at the boy, gauging his reaction.

 Surprisingly, the boy in front of him laughed barely audible for others to hear. He held up a hand to cover his mouth, stifling his laugh even though it was quiet.

 Daiki peeked up, widening his eyes in surprise.

 Even with such an emotionless look to him, he could laugh too, huh?

 A large figure appeared from the main house at that moment, looking about the courtyard. He was an older man, probably in his late 60’s. He had a white beard that reached below his neck, and snow white hair that was tied into a bun. He wore a heavy grey robe, trailing behind him as he slowly walked forward. His eye color was similar to the boy who stood in front of him, who now looked up at the tall figure in the doorway.

 Everyone around him gasped again, digging their heads into the ground. At the older man’s entrance, his father went into the same position as the ladies, his sword dropping to the side.

 “Daimyo,” They all said in unison, using the most formal speech Daiki had ever heard.

 The boy beside him blinked, and looked up at the older man.

 “Grandfather?” The boy’s voice was soft, and polite -- much like his demeanour. It suited him.

 Holy shit, he really was a Bocchama.

 The older man’s eyes looked at his grandson, his eyes slit.

 “Tetsuya, you know better. Especially when we expected guests. Get back inside” his voice was gravelly, like a low rumble of thunder on the horizon.

 “I apologize, Grandfather,” The boy bowed, and looked over at Daiki once more. He looked at him without a word before making his way inside again.

 “That boy never listens to a word I say,” The lord sighed, before turning towards Daiki and his father.

 He extended his hand, allowing for them to raise their heads.

 “Welcome, Mamoru. It’s been awhile has it not?” The older man’s voice was less stern, almost friend.

 His father laughed, picking up his sword and reattaching it to his side as he straightened.

 “Indeed it has, Kuroko-Sama.”

 The Lord frowned, crossing his arms.

 "We’ve been friends for years, I’ve told you to call me Raiden.”

 Mamoru laughed politely, a soft look in his eyes.

 “You know I could never do that.’

 “You’re the same as always, Mamoru,” he sighed. Raiden looked over at Daiki, who stood silently watching the exchange of the two.

 For a Daiymo and his samurai, they were fairly informal with another. Then again, their families had know one another for generations. It would almost be strange if they weren’t close. But he knew their families had a different relationship between the two differing classes than other Lords did. His was the only one he knew that served in terms of the next kin.

 “And you must be Daiki, yes?”

 The older man spoke to him now, his eyes a twinkling blue.

Daiki nodded slowly, taking a loud gulp.

 The old man laughed, reaching his hand out to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder.

 “No need to be afraid of me. After all we’ll be seeing your face quite often from now on, right?”

 He nodded again.

 “Come, let’s head inside.”

 Raiden took Daiki by the shoulders, pushing him forward as they walked back up the stairs where the man had come from.

 From behind him he could hear the ladies getting up from their positions. The whispers returned again, this time quieter.

 The main hall was large, about 20 tatami mats really. Though Daiki couldn’t really tell, the room felt bigger than his whole land combined together. In the center of the room were two large seating cushions, where one was occupied. It was the young boy he had encountered outside, however this time his nose was buried deep in a scroll. The boy, Tetsuya didn’t even look up at them entering. Obviously whatever he was reading was more interesting than them apparently.

 Beside the boy sat a guard, similar to the ones who guarded the gate. A personal guard perhaps? Behind them was a large folding screen with a picture of a crane wading through shallow waters. Several men and women crowded the far left side of the room, engaged in their own craft. Some looked to be sewing, others practicing their calligraphy, and one who seemed to be be writing a story.

 Upon their entrance, the guard stood upright, straightening his posture.

 “Daimyo.”

 He bowed, a straight 90 degree angle.

 Tetsuya didn’t bother looking up, his eyes scanning across the page.

 The lord cleared his throat, getting the boy’s attention.

 “ _Tetsuya,_ ” He warned.

 The boy quickly rolled the scroll up and set it to his side. Even from far away, Daiki noticed he put it down with a strange sort of gentleness.

 Wasn’t it just paper?

 He didn’t know this boy very well, but he could tell he was definitely odd. And who else just interrupts someone mid shout? Granted, he was yelling.

 Tetsuya gave a bow from his seated position.

 “My apologies.”

Raiden shook his head and made his way to the cushion on the boy’s left. He sat on his knees and gestured for Daiki and Mamoru to sit before them.

 They made their way to their positions, bowing once more before the Daimyo and his grandson.

 “Where is my son, Masanori?”

 The Lord spoke to the guards, furrowing his brow.

 “I’m here, Father,” came a man’s voice from behind Daiki. His voice was smoother, almost like silk.

The man walked around them, walking in a militant like style. He had black hair, slicked back into a bun. He obviously did not carry the same sort of light sense of  humor the Daimyo did.

 Masanori made his way to the front, sitting between his son and the Daimyo. He laid his sword out in front of him as a sign of peace. The man gave a polite bow to the two of them.

 Raiden sighed, but said no more discerning his own son.

 “Welcome, Mamoru and Daiki,” The Lord began, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled toward them. “It has been a long time since you have visited, Mamoru. Why has this been?”

 Mamoru sighed, and looked toward his son.

 “With his Mother gone these last several years, it has been a little more challenging to make my way toward the estate. However I have been meeting with Masanori to discuss familiar matters. As well as our political position in Kyoto.”

 Masanori nodded at the statement, confirming the fact.

 “Yes, Father. Worry not, Aomine-san has done his due diligence toward the family.”

 The Lord nodded.

 “I am sorry for what happened to your wife, Mamoru. We should have been more cautious. Although this village seems at peace, we do have many enemies aiming for our position in the council,” Raiden sounded sincere, looking at Daiki and his father with sorrowful eyes.

 His own Father shook his head, and smiled sadly as he looked down at his hands.

 “No, it was my fault,” he closed his eyes. “After our position is affirmed into the council, I will avenge my wife’s death. The Kuroko family comes first, as always,”

 “Mamoru, there is no reason to--”

 However the Daimyo was cut off by Masanori. His eyes were cold as steel as he turned towards his father.

 “Thank you, Aomine-San. The council is important for the family,” Masanori stated, cutting him off.

 The older man’s eyebrow twitched. It was a small movement, and Daiki almost thought he had imagined it.

 A dark pain hit Daiki, thinking of how his Mother’s murderers were off somewhere in their palace. No doubt drinking away at Sake as Geisha girls threw themselves at them. Even if he had to wait for the sake of their lord’s family… He would help his father seek revenge.

 Raiden noticed the change in Daiki’s look and was quick to change the subject.

 “But, ah-ah, that is not what we are here for today. Excuse me for going off  our main course.”

The boy opposite of him finally looked up, as if he had been spacing out in the previous conversation.

 “Mamoru says his boy has come of age, and is the time for him to be introduced to the family. Alas, we have not made our proper introductions have we?”

 Raiden stood up, and gave a curt bow in Daiki’s direction. He gestured at himself, his long beard swaying from the motion.

 “I am the Daimyo, lord of this estate, and head lead of the Kuroko family.

 He nodded at the middle aged man who still sat up right in the middle. His expression remained undetectable.

 “My son, Masanori. As I manage things here, Masanori is in charge of the family’s position in the council for the emperor in the capital. I am growing too old to make the journeys, unfortunately,” He feigned a sigh.

 Masanori bowed his head.

 “Hello, little Aomine-kun. I will also be assisting in your sword training when your father is unable. As such, we will discuss matters after the meeting.”

 Ah, so his father wasn’t going to be the only one teaching him the way of the sword? His heart sunk a little at the thought.

 “And finally,” Raiden continued, smiling at the small boy on the far right pillow, “Is my grandson, Tetsuya.”

 Tetsuya stood up at the sound of his name, and faced Daiki. He met his gaze, and didn’t look away. The bright blue eyes stared at him light sharp shards of ice.

 “And also your own personal master, Daiki.”

  _Wait, what?_

 Daiki spoke for the first time, his words stammering.

“W-what do you mean, my own personal master?” Daiki asked confused, as he looked from the young boy to the old man.

 “Well, seeming as the two of you are the same age, I figured it would be beneficial for Tetsuya to have a friend of his own. He is also the young master of the family. The boy needs a guard we can trust,” Raiden explained, smiling genuinely.

 “I look forward to working with you, Aomine-kun,” Tetsuya said politely. He sat back down, and picked up the scroll from where he placed it.

 Daiki could only stand and give a shaky bow, repeating his own gratitude.

 He wasn’t even sure exactly what he said in response, surprise and questions swimming around in his head.

 The one question that circulated again and again swirled in forefront.

 What the hell was this family? Why the hell did he have to babysit a kid his age? And why was this kid so weird?

 Daiki had no answers, and came to just one conclusion.

 Life from now on was going to be a _pain in the ass_.

 


End file.
